groaning tray.
I pick up my drink, knock it back in one and slam the glass down on the table. Danny’s wide mouth slits into a grin. ‘And we’re off,’ he says, gabbling like a horse-racing commentator. ‘And in the inside lane is Jules and her rocket fuel, middle lane we have Grumpy Noel and his pints, not one mind, two. Tricky Mickey’s on a pint and a JD chaser, rare man, Mickey! And on the outside lane, we have Boring Clara. And what’s that? A Coke? Surely not. You’ll never win the Grand National on a Coke, missy.’
Clara blushes and plays with her glass. ‘Sorry, Danny. Driving tonight. Have to drop the babysitter home later.’ Clara’s a single mum but she always tries to make it out on a Friday, says it’s good for team morale, but I think it has more to do with spending time with Danny.
Danny shakes his head. ‘Clara, Clara, Clara. What will I do with you? I’ll let you off just this once, ’cause you’re so easy on the eye.’
She blushes again. Ed thinks Clara’s a bit boring, but in fact she’s far from it, she’s just quiet and a little shy. But once you get talking to her, one on one, she’s fascinating – incredibly well read, with her finger on the pulse of every cutting-edge news blog or website out there. She’s also one of those rare people who actually listens to what you have to say, and seems genuinely interested in learning how
you
see the world, which is pretty rare.
Clara’s also the brains behind the show. She books the ‘talent’, researches most of the items and types up all Danny’s notes, plus she generates most of the weekly slots: Danny’s Dish of the Day (celebrity gossip), Danny’s Dodos – stupid things celebrities or politicians say. Even the Danny Delaney house band – House – was her idea. Noel always takes credit for the band, but she came up with the concept first. I know ’cause I was right here in Dicey’s snug when she suggested it. They’re very lucky to have her.
She’s pretty too, petite with cropped dark hair, like a little pixie, which is why they call her Tink, short for Tinkerbell, but she hates it, so they don’t use it to her face. Everyone on the team has a nickname, even Ed the Head. All a bit childish and prep school, if you ask me.
‘Don’t worry, Jules will make up for your intoxication inadequacies, won’t you, babes?’ Danny grins at me.
‘Absolutely.’ I beam, wondering when my next drink’s going to arrive. You need to be a few drinks down to cope in Danny’s company – you have to be ‘on’ all the time, totally engaged in the conversation and in what Danny in particular is saying.
Ed explained it all carefully after my inaugural night in Dicey’s. ‘Working for Danny is like selling your soul to the devil, Jules,’ he’d said. ‘He’s the driving force behind the whole bloody radio station, and he knows it. And once you accept that and roll with it, life becomes a hell of a lot easier.’
‘So pandering to Danny’s ego is part of the job?’ I’d asked.
He laughed. ‘Exactly! Along with keeping Grumpy Noel fully caffeinated up, and holding Clara’s hand when she’s having one of her “Noel’s picking on me” wobbles. All part of the game.’
Another drink arrives and I down it in one, to the team’s cheers. Seconds later the familiar alcohol tingle hits my system and the week’s frustrations begin to melt away.
Later that night, I hear voices floating above me.
‘I don’t know if we can bring her. She’s pretty out if it and the bouncers at Champers hate drunks.’ Noel.
‘We should make sure she gets home OK. Feck, where’s Tink when you need her?’ Mickey.
I open my eyes. Noel and Mickey are staring down at me. I smile and wave up at them.
‘Hi, boys. Where am I?’ My head’s spinning and my body feels heavy.
‘In the beer garden at Dicey’s,’ Noel says. ‘You fell asleep, so we carried you out to get some fresh air. Listen, we’re off to Champers but Tink’s
I pick up my drink, knock it back in one and slam the glass down on the table. Danny’s wide mouth slits into a grin. ‘And we’re off,’ he says, gabbling like a horse-racing commentator. ‘And in the inside lane is Jules and her rocket fuel, middle lane we have Grumpy Noel and his pints, not one mind, two. Tricky Mickey’s on a pint and a JD chaser, rare man, Mickey! And on the outside lane, we have Boring Clara. And what’s that? A Coke? Surely not. You’ll never win the Grand National on a Coke, missy.’
Clara blushes and plays with her glass. ‘Sorry, Danny. Driving tonight. Have to drop the babysitter home later.’ Clara’s a single mum but she always tries to make it out on a Friday, says it’s good for team morale, but I think it has more to do with spending time with Danny.
Danny shakes his head. ‘Clara, Clara, Clara. What will I do with you? I’ll let you off just this once, ’cause you’re so easy on the eye.’
She blushes again. Ed thinks Clara’s a bit boring, but in fact she’s far from it, she’s just quiet and a little shy. But once you get talking to her, one on one, she’s fascinating – incredibly well read, with her finger on the pulse of every cutting-edge news blog or website out there. She’s also one of those rare people who actually listens to what you have to say, and seems genuinely interested in learning how
you
see the world, which is pretty rare.
Clara’s also the brains behind the show. She books the ‘talent’, researches most of the items and types up all Danny’s notes, plus she generates most of the weekly slots: Danny’s Dish of the Day (celebrity gossip), Danny’s Dodos – stupid things celebrities or politicians say. Even the Danny Delaney house band – House – was her idea. Noel always takes credit for the band, but she came up with the concept first. I know ’cause I was right here in Dicey’s snug when she suggested it. They’re very lucky to have her.
She’s pretty too, petite with cropped dark hair, like a little pixie, which is why they call her Tink, short for Tinkerbell, but she hates it, so they don’t use it to her face. Everyone on the team has a nickname, even Ed the Head. All a bit childish and prep school, if you ask me.
‘Don’t worry, Jules will make up for your intoxication inadequacies, won’t you, babes?’ Danny grins at me.
‘Absolutely.’ I beam, wondering when my next drink’s going to arrive. You need to be a few drinks down to cope in Danny’s company – you have to be ‘on’ all the time, totally engaged in the conversation and in what Danny in particular is saying.
Ed explained it all carefully after my inaugural night in Dicey’s. ‘Working for Danny is like selling your soul to the devil, Jules,’ he’d said. ‘He’s the driving force behind the whole bloody radio station, and he knows it. And once you accept that and roll with it, life becomes a hell of a lot easier.’
‘So pandering to Danny’s ego is part of the job?’ I’d asked.
He laughed. ‘Exactly! Along with keeping Grumpy Noel fully caffeinated up, and holding Clara’s hand when she’s having one of her “Noel’s picking on me” wobbles. All part of the game.’
Another drink arrives and I down it in one, to the team’s cheers. Seconds later the familiar alcohol tingle hits my system and the week’s frustrations begin to melt away.
Later that night, I hear voices floating above me.
‘I don’t know if we can bring her. She’s pretty out if it and the bouncers at Champers hate drunks.’ Noel.
‘We should make sure she gets home OK. Feck, where’s Tink when you need her?’ Mickey.
I open my eyes. Noel and Mickey are staring down at me. I smile and wave up at them.
‘Hi, boys. Where am I?’ My head’s spinning and my body feels heavy.
‘In the beer garden at Dicey’s,’ Noel says. ‘You fell asleep, so we carried you out to get some fresh air. Listen, we’re off to Champers but Tink’s
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